


reverie for the softhearted

by Kissanminttu



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Domestic, Emotional, F/F, Fluff, Lesbian Sex, Love, Masturbation, Smut, cabin in alaska, eve can't sleep, hand holding....., set after 2x08, soft!villanelle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 07:37:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19168741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissanminttu/pseuds/Kissanminttu
Summary: “You can wake me up if you have trouble sleeping, you know,” Villanelle says, nuzzling her face to Eve’s lovely hair. Eve huffs disbelievingly.“You’re going to regret saying that.”“I’ll help you,” Villanelle promises and presses a feathery kiss to her shoulder.





	reverie for the softhearted

**Author's Note:**

> hello! :) remember when v helped eve with raymond and then they smooched in the ruins? same!!! now i'm here to throw some alaska softness to your way, please enjoy ♡

The storm ravages over the roof of their cabin. With the raindrops bouncing along the steel and the nearby tree branches whipping the surface, it sounds as if an army of tiny creatures is crawling through the structure. The noises are still strangers to Eve. Rome happened only two weeks ago. There’s still a lot to get accustomed to. At least the screaming wind suppresses the loud ticking of the clock that Eve can’t stand.

She turns on the bed for the dozenth time. Thunder grumbles in the distance, a bit further away now, Eve reckons. Alaskan summer isn’t a dark time – not in the least. The cabin’s windows are shrouded, but even in the latest hours of the night Eve can see clearly around the space. She looks at the woman lying with her under the enormous blanket. The woman Eve could’ve once called her enemy.

Eve sighs. Villanelle is sleeping unbothered, lips slightly parted and half of her face buried to the pillow. Eve’s pillow, as the blonde has switched their cushions _again_.

The delicate features of her face are completely relaxed. She looks adorable, peacefully dreaming as if she’s finally found the place where she’s always wanted to be. That’s very much how Villanelle has acted through the weeks. Eve doesn’t think she can ever reach the same kind of carelessness. Villanelle is the embodiment of living in the moment.

Every night, she holds Eve’s hand. When they settle into bed, until one of them turns away or the contact gets too sweaty. Eve thinks Villanelle did it on their first night in attempt of calming her from the shocking mess that day had been. Then it became a habit.

Eve tries to avoid thinking about Rome too much. It fills her with draining emotions she doesn’t need to face, at least not yet. But there is something about that day where her thoughts always return to, and that’s the feeling of Villanelle’s lips on her own. The single kiss they shared in the midst of the sunbathing ruins replays in Eve’s mind.

She extends her hand to touch Villanelle’s face, only to withdraw her fingers just before.

Despite appearing otherwise, Villanelle is a light sleeper. Eve knows this, and she doesn’t want to disturb her. This isn’t helping her to find any sleep either. The sky releases another growl as she turns her back to the younger woman. Eve flips her pillow to its colder side and tries to drown her head to the softness. The cushion smells like Villanelle. A honey-based shampoo. Eve likes it.

It’s strange to be together with her. In the middle of nowhere, only the gorgeous forests and a murky lake knowing of their whereabouts. It takes a good walk to the neighbouring cabin. To share a bed with an assassin who keeps a handgun in the drawer of her nightstand but touches Eve like the most softhearted lover. Her special somebody who has thought about killing her probably as much as loving her. Eve can’t claim to be any different. She’s just less vocal about it.

To be honest, Eve doesn’t know why they haven’t kissed again. The blonde loves to give her little touches throughout their days, whether it is a brief moment of holding hands or brushing her lips against the older woman’s shoulder before she disappears to do something for few hours. And not only that, but Villanelle continues to surprise her with little gifts and once asked to brush her hair, which ended up being so soothing that Eve was close to passing out. Eve doesn’t mind her being so affectionate, _no_ , she thinks it’s very sweet of Villanelle. If not partially amusing and… Unexpected.

Every time it causes a sickening amount of butterflies fluttering in Eve’s stomach. It’s happening now, as she drifts to think about Villanelle’s slender body pressing close to her. The sweet voice whispering to her, telling her all about what she wants to do with Eve.

God, she’s being ridiculous. She could just ask for it and Villanelle would most likely take her right there and then. That might even be exactly what the assassin is waiting for.

Instead, Eve lowers a hand between her thighs and lets her fingertips toy with the patch of dark curls. She imagines them on the day Villanelle broke into her house for the first time. The first time they sat around the same table and Eve listened to this asshole talk about everything unimportant. How close they were then, against the fridge door and the tip of a knife above Eve’s thundering heart.

Villanelle is pleased with herself as she finds Eve wearing her perfume. Her kisses start to trail along the side of the older woman’s neck and Eve tilts her head, the complicated mess of arousal and fear controlling her. It’s an intricate feeling, unexplainably consuming and addicting. A feeling only Villanelle brings out in her.

“Let me, Eve,” the soft words burst Eve’s bubble.

She’s brought back to the current on an instant with her heart jumping to her throat. There’s shifting behind her back and a warm hand already climbing over her hip.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Eve mutters under her breath, her cheeks reaching the deepest shade of crimson. Her body tenses up as Villanelle scoots up against her back, head snuggling behind her shoulder, leaving no space between them. A mixture of excitement and shame run through Eve’s veins. What the fuck was she _thinking_?

“Let me,” Villanelle repeats and reaches for Eve’s hand which has stopped its gentle movement between the woman’s legs. Villanelle curls her fingers around Eve’s wrist and she pulls Eve’s hand upwards from the waistband of her shorts. Eve resists it at first, knowing her fingertips are slick with desire, the burning on her face worsening the closer Villanelle’s touch gets.

“You can wake me up if you have trouble sleeping, you know,” Villanelle says close to her ear, nuzzling her face to Eve’s lovely hair. Eve huffs disbelievingly.

“You’re going to regret saying that.” At this point, having trouble sleeping is one of the core elements of her being. She’s surprised Villanelle can even sleep next to her due to her every night turning.

“I’ll help you,” Villanelle promises. Like she’s helped Eve before… But this time in person. Eve feels the hot breath on her skin as the younger woman tells her to not be so hard on herself. Villanelle replaces Eve’s hand with her own, sliding her fingers under the thin clothing.

“Move your hips,” the blonde tells her then, giving an exemplary nudge against Eve’s backside. Eve swallows hard before complying. She starts a slow rhythm against Villanelle’s hand, the assassin’s fingers pressed to her skin on just the perfect angle. Her body follows Eve’s and Eve relaxes, unable to resist the other woman.

“Were you thinking about me?” Villanelle loves that question.

Eve nods. Pleasure rummages in her: even the storm seems to quiet down as her breathing heavies and the moment resembles more a rose-colored fantasy than something that could actually happen. She melts in the arms of a woman who turned every aspect of her life upside down: revealed her completely new sides of the world Eve once deemed boring and mundane. Eve curses herself for letting Villanelle play her so well.

“Where were we?” The assassin continues to enquire about her reverie.

“In the kitchen.”

“In the kitchen,” Villanelle chuckles. She isn’t surprised – and she’s certain there was a knife involved. Eve Polastri is fonder of knives than she dares to admit.

“I have been very patient, I didn’t want to scare you.”

“That’s… Debatable,” Eve exhales deeply to her pillow. She struggles to keep her moans behind her lips. Villanelle’s voice is only adding to her lust. Eve doesn’t even care what she’s saying, all she wants is to hear more words coated in that thick accent. Eve rests her hand on top of Villanelle’s, but she doesn’t interrupt what Villanelle is doing.

Villanelle can feel how ready Eve is for her, how thoroughly she’s enjoying bucking against her. She craves her touch all around her body, hands to knead her breasts and teeth to bite her collarbones.

“I have you,” Villanelle whispers before pressing a feathery kiss to her shoulder. She will give Eve everything, everything in its own time. She’ll show her how perfect they are together, how beautiful and happy they can be.

Her fingers dance further between Eve’s legs. She’s but a dripping, panting mess as Villanelle finds her soft folds and lets her fingertips travel between them. Eve thrusts her hips into the touch, need and impatience taking over.

“Naughty girl,” her quirky lover coos at her and a pair of lips nip at her ear. Eve calls out her name: it escapes her throat as a breathy moan. Villanelle praises her in response, the words but a low murmur.

Eve’s voice is her favourite sound in the world. She wouldn’t believe how many times Villanelle replayed her concerned voicemails; the assassin remembers them by heart now. She teases Eve with kisses around her earlobe, strokes of a tongue gracing her skin every now and then. The older woman quivers on her place as the pleasant sensation roams through her body.

When Villanelle shifts her hand, slipping the length of her fingers finally inside her, Eve feels lightheaded. If she dies tonight, on this bed, it’s because her heart couldn’t handle it. This raw and fervent state of mind is new to her. Even the smallest things feel better than she could have ever imagined. A killer’s touch shouldn’t feel so good. It should be impossible. She rolls onto Villanelle’s wet fingers, chasing the heavenly pleasure and letting her body succumb to its urges.

“That’s my Eve,” Villanelle purrs. The assassin’s lips find place on her neck and hot kisses dribble on her skin. Eve’s hips work flawlessly with the pace of her hand. By bending her fingertips and exploring Eve’s neck with her teeth, she keeps pulling the sweetest reactions from her. Eve is gorgeous like this, her gasping and sweating form writhing under Villanelle’s mercy.

Her muscles squeeze harshly around Villanelle’s hand as she comes, long sighs unwinding from her lungs. Villanelle guides her through it, not withdrawing her fingers until the pushing of her hips wearies down. Eve breathes hard, collecting her thoughts, trying to make any sense of the happening. Their legs untangle as Villanelle returns to her side of the bed.

“When are you going to tell me you love me?” The blonde asks while Eve’s eyes are still closed. This  _idiot_ … The older woman shares a secret smile with her pillow. Villanelle eyes her slick fingers, and wipes them to the hem of their blanket, but not before bringing a fingertip between her lips.

“Villanelle…”

Warmth blooms in Villanelle’s chest, her angel’s voice is so gentle.

“Mmm?”

Eve tastes like a dream, the assassin decides. A daydream.

“I want to kiss you.”

It’s not ‘I love you’, but it’ll do.

“Come here then, baby.”

The soft sheets rustle under her as Eve turns around, and she doesn’t waste time clashing her lips onto the other woman’s. Villanelle’s mouth is warm and welcoming, just like the embrace that closes around Eve as she rolls on top of her lover. Eve can feel Villanelle smiling into their kisses, that awfully lovestruck smile. She doesn’t know what to do with it, so she kisses her harder to wipe it off her face.

By the time she collapses to Villanelle’s side, there isn’t many hours left of the night. The storm has died, remaining only as the soft tapping of drizzle on the windowsills. Another thrill tails off through Eve’s figure as she lays her head onto Villanelle’s chest, exhaustion quickly carrying her away.

Villanelle takes her hand and says something, but Eve is too tired to make out her words.

For few hours she sleeps soundly, reaching a quietude she hasn’t known for many months.

♡

**Author's Note:**

> let villanelle take care of her wife challenge,,  
> comments are my lifeblood, please let me know if you enjoyed! thank you for reading, i love every single one of u


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